My Own Prison
by Sevvie.Rose
Summary: A Songfic: My Own Prison - Creed. AU. Written by Sevvie. I do not own HP - borrowing the characters.


[Court is in session; a verdict is in – No appeal on the docket today, just my own sin.]

"Judge 'as decided to ship him off – too much against the sod to even have a chance of getting off or a reduced sentence" an Auror said as he stared in the cell, a satisfied smirk planted on his face.

Sirius shuddered, drawing his knees up to his chest. "No, no, no, no" he whispered over and over again. It was all a joke, a twisted joke, any time now James would jump out and shout 'Got'cha!' – no, there was no way he was /dead/ - there was no way just yesterday Remus, James, Sirius, and Peter were at the pub, joking with each other and discussing little baby Harry and now, merely twenty-four hours later James and Lily were dead, Harry – oh he wasn't sure what had happened with Harry, and Peter had betrayed them all, showing off his dark mark right after cutting off his own finger, the twisted sod.

There was no way he was being shipped off to Azkaban in just a few moments: Albus would help him, or Remus! He knew it; they would show up and tell the Aurors there was absolutely /no/ way Sirius would betray James – James! His brother! Or like a brother he was, closer than Regulus, they all were closer to him than Regulus, and now here he was being shipped off for supposedly betraying the Potters to the Dark Lord and killing Peter.

[The walls are cold and pale, the cage made of steel. Screams fill the room, alone I drop and kneel. Silence now the sound, my breath the only motion around.]

Sirius fought – he really did, but he was no match for the two Aurors whom had a hold of each of his arms and shoulders, one even almost dislocated Sirius' shoulder. They tossed him into the cell and locked the door before Sirius could shuffle to his feet and bang on the steel door. He banged until he couldn't hold the tears anymore, sliding down to his knees and covering his face with his dirty palms.

Here he was, sitting in a cell for life for the murder of thirteen people, one whom was one of his best friends – and the betrayer! He choked on sobs, shaking his head no, he couldn't believe it. He wasn't guilty; he knew that, he'd only be in here for a bit, someone would help him. He glanced up and stared at his cell, a bed which was worse for wear, and a small window. He pushed up to his feet and stood on the tip of his toes to peer out it, widening his eyes when he saw the dementors flying around the grounds and on the grounds a small graveyard, hardly took care of – no, this wasn't his fate, he wouldn't be buried there when he died.

He sank back to the ground and drew his legs up again, physically shaking with freight – how could everything have gone so wrong?

[Demons cluttering around, my face showing no emotion. Shackled by my sentence, expecting no return. Here there is no penance, my skin begins to burn.]

He had huddled in the corner for at least a day he figured as night had come and past and now the sun was once again setting. He couldn't sleep – the screams in the other cells would make him jump back to consciousness every time his eyes would droop. He turned towards the steel door when he heard footsteps heading down the halls, he knew it had to be an Auror to let him out, it had to be.

It wasn't, though the Auror did come to his cell, peering through the bars and grinning at him. Sirius stared through his hair, wondering what the man could want. "It's time." The Auror muttered before turning and stepping out of view. 'Time' he had said, time for what? Sirius was confused before he heard the door unlock and pry open. He had the urge to crawl towards it, but froze in his spot when he felt very cold, widening his grey eyes when he saw the fingers creep around to grip the door.

A Dementor – it glided into the room and over towards him, he pushed back as far as he could, which wasn't much as he was already against the wall, gasping when he felt the Dementor come close enough to begin sucking out his memories – his soul. He wanted to scream so badly, but nothing would come out when he opened his eyes. His lip quivered when the Dementor pulled back, he took a glance to his side and figured maybe he could crawl away but before he got the chance the Dementor was back for more.

It went on for ages, or so Sirius thought. When the Dementor finally pulled away, Sirius slumped against the wall in exhaustion, tears staining his cheeks. He fell to his side on the floor, staring with an emotionless expression at the dirty stone floor, in his mind asking – screaming: Why was this happening to him?

[So I held my head up high, hiding hate that burns inside. Which only fuels their selfish pride. Out from the sun, a sun that shines on only some. We the meet are all in one.]

He knew no one was coming to help him after a month – he lost all hope of being saved by Remus or Albus, he should've been insane by now, Dementors fed on him twice a day, but he was completely sane – he didn't speak aloud; the Aurors thought he was insane, but he wasn't, he was plotting. He knew with everything he had that he was innocent, and one day, one day he would get his revenge – he would escape from here and get his revenge – it was the only thing he had to cling too.

[A lion roars in the darkness, only he holds the key. A light to free me from my burden, and grant me life eternally.]

Sirius found Dementor feedings were easier in his animagus form, of course when he heard the footsteps coming down the hall he had to morph back into a human just for a moment – in human form he was cold, he felt nothing – but in dog form he felt anger, hate, every day he plotted out to get out, coming up with hundreds of escape plans.

Maybe he was insane – he was slowly starting to accept this fact, after being in Azkaban for four years he figured maybe he wasn't going to get out of this unscathed, maybe he wasn't going to get out of this at all – he only had two things to look forward too: Killing Peter and seeing James – oh he knew he was crazy for the latter, but he swore every time he turned into a dog at night, he would see a shadow – Prongs – he would whimper in dog form for forgiveness, whimper for help but the shadow never moved – yes, he was very insane, but not quite out of his mind yet: If that made sense.

[Should have been dead on a Sunday morning, banging my head, no time for mourning, ain't got no time.]

After Eleven years here he was, huddled in the corner, debating what he could do. He knew he had to do something, and plotting revenge wasn't helping his case to survive on a daily basis. He took a look around the cell and decided that maybe it was time for him to end it all; karma would get Peter, right? He pulled his head to the side and slammed it into the wall as hard as he could, wincing at the pain – oh the pain, but it felt so good to actually /feel/ again – he repeated the banging over and over again until he could smell and fell the drips of blood running down his face.

Aurors rushed inside when the recognized what the noise was, pulling his weak body out of the cell and dragging him down to Azkaban's infirmary to make sure he wouldn't die. Tears fell down his face as he thought James wouldn't want this, and to leave Remus all alone in the world – no, he couldn't do it. He fell asleep and the next time he woke up, he was back in his cell, fresh bandages on his head.

[So I held my head up high, hiding hate that burns inside. Which only fuels their selfish pride. Out from the sun, a sun that shines on only some. We the meet are all in one.]

Twelve years he had been in Azkaban – Twelve long years. He was laying in dog form thinking about whatever he could remember – birthdays and holidays were missing, he could remember odd things like being in the library to study for Owls, but not the day when he had mastered animagi. He could remember playing with his brother when they were small children, but not the day he turned sixteen. The dog closed his eyes and suppressed a sigh, he couldn't dwell on those things – no point in dwelling, what was lost was lost.

He opened his eyes as he saw a rat stumbling across the path, growling loudly – he remembered to the one thing he clung too: Killing Peter, revenge. Maybe revenge wasn't a very good thing to cling too, he wanted to be as sane as possible, and he needed another reason to leave Azkaban. The dog whimpered as he remembered the small bundle with green eyes and a mop of dark hair he held – his godson, he knew he was alive, he had heard Aurors mutter his name a few times, that was his reason for escaping now, Peter and revenge still roamed his mind, but what was more important was keeping Harry safe and raising Harry to be just like him and his Father.

The dog closed his eyes and got some sleep – dreaming about the day he would get out.

[I cry out to Merlin, seeking only his decision. Gabriel stands and confirms I've created my own prison.]

He dreamed of Harry and living in the open, never being near a Dementor again, never hearing the screams of fellow inmates. Raising Harry and telling him everything he needed to succeed in life and growing up, telling him about girls – or boys, giving him his first Firewhiskey, teaching him to play cards and planning out pranks or just listening to boring stories about classes Harry had, and talking about his future. It was the best dream he had had since he came to Azkaban – but alas it was just that, a dream.

[I cry out to Merlin, seeking only his decision. Gabriel stands and confirms I've created my own prison.]

He came to the realization it was a dream within his dream, whimpering in his sleep and his dreams morphing into a nightmare, his head full of screams and the sound of Lily screaming for help, Harry crying, James' body lying still, cold, and lifeless on the ground when he entered. He awoke with a scream as his eyes shot open and staring into the monstrous face of a Dementor sucking on his memories.

[So I held my head up high, hiding hate that burns inside. Which only fuels their selfish pride. Out from the sun, a sun that shines on only some. We the meet are all in one.]

He had morphed a plan in his head, he even tested it out – in Azkaban he had been sleep, food, and water deprived, which had worked for his benefit over the last twelve years. He could easily fit through the bars, he had spent the last few weeks sitting, listening as Aurors down the hall switch shifts, he knew the exact times they all left – except one – for lunch, and he knew when they napped on the job, even their normal bathroom breaks. Soon he would be out of here, to see Harry, and Remus, tracking down Peter in his free time – if the sod wasn't already dead, but Sirius knew he wasn't, he was a rat, he was more than likely in hiding, and waiting unintentionally for Sirius to find him and kill him – to take his revenge.

[So I held my head up high, hiding hate that burns inside. Which only fuels their selfish pride. Out from the sun, a sun that shines on only some. We the meet are all in one.]

Sirius knew tonight was the night; he had been in Azkaban for almost thirteen years. The night was the night because the day before he had seen an article of the daily prophet which had blown down the hall by the wind and landed on the floor, he pushed his head out and stared down at it, something about the Weasleys', he remembered Molly and Arthur a bit, his ears popped up and he growled when he noticed the youngest boy was holding a rat – he knew that rat.

Now here he was, staring at the wall as he listened to the shuffling of the Aurors down the hall, waiting for the clock to chime and for them all to go down to the ground level to switch shifts, the Dementors he knew were floating out around outside, he wasn't scared of them though, they had taken everything he had already, what else should he be afraid of them taking? His soul? Literally? No, he knew they would never kill him, toying with a pray until they die on their own was more fun, especially for cold literally heartless creatures like Dementors.

The dog jumped at his chance when he heard the Aurors shuffling up and their steps becoming quieter as they moved away from him.

[Should have been dead on a Sunday morning, banging my head, no time for mourning, ain't got no time.]

As he touched the ground of the outside, he took a look around – it was night, which he was thankful for, he had no idea how his eyes would react to sunlight. He noticed a few Dementors high in the air, but they wouldn't mess with a dog, nor anyone walking around the grounds unless ordered, did no one ever expect a prisoner to slip through the bars due to near-starvation and amble out of Azkaban and onto the grounds.

The dog quickly ran to the side and hid behind the building, his head poking out to watch two Aurors step out and walk down a short path to a small pole, when touching it the two Aurors disappeared, an apparition-key. Sirius only begged he had the energy to apparate as the dog pushed off his feet and ran to the pole as fast as he could, silently praying no one would notice the dog, morphing into a human and grabbing the pole, closing his eyes and thinking about James and Lily's house – in a crack of apparition he was gone – a free man as he appeared in the middle of the rubble that once was the Potter household – and now to find Harry he thought as he morphed into a dog and walked out of the rubble and towards the edge of the village, he knew exactly where to head, Harry's only known relatives house, begging Petunia – the bitch – Evans took him in for his eyes.


End file.
